Bend and Break
by Morgan72uk
Summary: House's patient of the week reveals a glimpse of Dr Cuddy's past. In the final chapter Cuddy makes her decision.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Bend and Break

Author: Morgan72uk

Summary: 'I am not one of your damn puzzles.'

Rating: T

Pairing: Not really - its a Cuddy /Wilson / House piece - although later on there are a couple of moments

Disclaimer: Still hoping not to be sued.

Distribution: Sure - though please ask first

A/N - well people were so nice to me last time I thought I'd do it again. I am still liking the challenge of messing with the minds of the 3 grown ups - and I think Cuddy deserves a backstory.

Bend and Break – part 1

The first summons, and there is no doubt in her mind that it is a summons, arrives after the patient has been in the hospital for two days. 'The patient' is a comfortably neutral term that allows Doctor Cuddy to pretend, if only to herself, that this 'patient' is no different to any other. It is a pretence she will be working hard to maintain, despite the fact that there is a copy of the admission chart buried under a pile of papers on her desk, even though (and she is fairly sure no one can trace this back to her) the patient was transferred here at her request, to be treated by House's team.

Given all of that it is not exactly a surprise to her to find the summons delivered by a member of that team, albeit in the guise of something far more benign.

'Dr Cameron,' she looks up from the papers she is reading and, because it is House can't resist asking, 'what's he done this time?' She is fairly sure that House has been behaving himself of late, but then, when it comes to House, it is always worth asking the question.

'I don't think he's done anything.'

'Has to be a first,' she comments – although she can't help thinking that if he had been playing his usual fast and loose game with ethics and procedure – it wouldn't be Cameron here telling her about it.

'I have a message from Professor Dean, if you have a few minutes she would appreciate a visit.' Cuddy sighs and pushes aside the file, giving up on the idea of paying it any attention any time soon.

'How is she?'

'She is very frail – we're running tests, but we don't know much yet.' As she watches the younger woman's face changes and she waits for the question that she knows is coming. 'You know her?'

'Slightly.' This is the word she has chosen to use in response to this very question. It has the benefit of not exactly being a lie – while at the same time not really being the truth either. 'Is her husband with her?' She already knows the answer to this – but thinks it might be a distraction.

'He hasn't left her side. It's just amazing to have met her, she's an inspiration.' Cameron says seriously, clearly a little awed at being in the great woman's presence. 'But she is very ill.' She adds this as though she expects it to come as a surprise and Cuddy bites back the retort that comes automatically to her lips – because after all she is Dean of Medicine, which makes her just about qualified to work out for herself that someone is 'very ill'. But that is not something she would say to a junior Doctor – certainly not one she is working hard to ensure maintains the illusion that her interest in this case is minimal. So instead she nods, pulls up her best serious and concerned expression and says,

'Tell Professor Dean I'll be sure to drop by when I have a minute.' She returns to her papers – a clear sign that the discussion is closed. Cameron takes the hint and retreats without a murmur – leaving Cuddy to wonder how she will fare when someone far more inquisitive is asking the questions.

It is a little harder to concentrate for the rest of the afternoon. Her memory seems to have developed an unpleasant trick of slipping back to the past, a place she is normally very careful not to visit. But she knew this would happen, knew when she got the call she would be placed in this position – whether she chose to admit the patient or not.

It is easy to rationalise it as a favour to an old friend, someone she did her residency with. The friend in question has a reputation prestigious enough for her to hide behind. She hopes that everyone believes it was the well known neurologist who pulled the necessary strings. Certainly his reputation for arrogance and brilliance was enough to pique House's interest. Always open to the opportunity to humiliate someone he doesn't know but assumes (rightly in this case) that he won't like, House didn't even question the source of the referral. If she is very, very lucky he might never realise that she is the one who has manipulated this situation – albeit as a favour for someone she hasn't spoken to for 15 years.

But she is not one to rely on luck to get her through – and she has been playing for time; time to prepare herself,time tocome up with the answers to the questions that she hasn't been asked in over a decade, time to come up with a good excuse not to visit old ghosts – even when they are dying.

It is with considerable effort, and some of the discipline that has contributed to her impressive reputation, that she forces herself to focus on what she needs to achieve for the rest of the afternoon – and does not visit Professor Dean.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Cameron is back the next morning, while Cuddy is still drinking her second cup of coffee she reports a significant deterioration over night, that Dr Wilson is now running tests – and that both Professor and Dr Dean have, once again, asked for her.

Cameron is all too evidently dying to ask her about the situation and Cuddy admires the reticence that is preventing her from doing so. If she wasn't sure that the information would work its way back to House, she might put her out of her misery. But she is clinging to the absurd notion that she might just slide this past him – and so a heart to heart with Dr Cameron is clearly out of the question.

But now she has a new problem to worry about. Because while there is every chance that House won't do anything as basic as interact with the patient, there is no possibilitythat James will be so distant. And James, being James, is bound not only to answer any questions – but also to ask some of his own.

'Do they want to make a complaint? Is there some problem with their treatment?' she enquires, as though that would be the only reason she could possibly have for interfering in one of House's cases; an irony that is not lost on her.

Cameron looks bewildered, and who can blame her – even dealing with House hasn't prepared her to be in the middle of this. 'I think they just want to see you.'

'Well, as I am sure you realise I am very busy.'

'I don't understand – why wouldn't you want to see her?' Why indeed? For a moment old emotions swirl around her, the old hurts and betrayals are more real than the hole in the budget she has to find a way to fill and the Board meeting later that day. But then she blinks and remembers who she is, what she is – and she shoves away the remnants of the person she used to bewith all the ruthlessness she possesses.

'If that's all Dr Cameron?' Another clear dismissal, this time Cameron looks as though she might stand her ground but her instinctive respect for authority and the tone of the dismissal win out. As the office door closes behind her Cuddy breathes a sigh of relief – even though she very much doubts she will be so fortunate next time.

She isn't.

James is waiting for her when she returns from her afternoon meeting. For a moment she labours under the illusion that this might just be their usual pre-Board meeting get together, but then he says,

'Professor Julia Dean – Noble Prize for Medicine,responsible for several major treatment break-throughs and, incidentally, a woman who shaped the professional development of significant numbers of the leading Doctors in the country.'

'I know who she is.' She knows where this is going but isn't feeling inclined to help him out in reaching the destination.

'I've known you for over 6 years and I've only just found out that you did your residency with her.'

'It was a long time ago.' She would like to add that she doesn't know comparable information about him, but in the first place this is not true and, in the second, even if it were true, he would simply reply that if he had been one of Professor Dean's residents he would have made sure everyone knew about it.

'Come on Cuddy – you were one of the chosen few, picked out by her, marked for glory, destined to succeed. They say she never made a mistake about someone's potential.' This is not something she can easily dispute, not even to say that there are other, more fundamental mistakes. Instead she falls back on the fact that she is a doctor and sitting down beside him asks,

'How is she?'

'Not good – tests are inconclusive – her heart isn't in great shape – House thinks it might be an underlying condition. But as of now we have no idea what that condition is.'

'No cancer?'

'Not so far.'

'But you're still looking?'

'Yes.' They sit in silence for a moment longer until he says softly, 'she asked for you.'

'I know.'

'But you aren't going to see her? In fact you seem to want to pretend you don't know her. I don't understand why.'

'Well, perhaps I was one of her rare mistakes.'

'Yes, because being Chief of Medicine hereis, in fact, evidence of lack of achievement. What is this really about?' It is on the tip of her tongue to remind him that "there are more things in heaven and earth…" but that won't exactly help – since she knows him well enough to recognise that he will genuinely wants to understand.

'Its complicated – OK? It was a long time ago and it's not a time that I remember with particular nostalgia. She's here for treatment – I hope House can help her – but I don't want to see her.'

'She's dying.' His analysis is flat, unemotional and because it is James, who knows more about the subject than any of them, she believes him. Tears bead on her lashes but she blinks them away, angry at her own vulnerability.

'I can't do anything to change that.'

'She's asked for you twice – you can't put aside whatever happened to visit a dying woman?' She pushes herself off the couch and retreats behind her desk in search of some painkillers.

'You have no idea who you are dealing with James.'

'Are we talking about you or her? This isn't like you.'

'Well, perhaps you don't know me as well as you think you do.' He winces as she swallows two pills, washing themdown with a mouthful of cold coffee.

'I'm worried about you.'

'Don't be, I'm fine.' His expression clearly says that he doesn't believe her, but with only a slight shake of his head he gets to his feet.

'What shall I tell Professor Dean?'

'That I won't be coming to visit – and that I hope she'll respect my wishes and stop asking for me. Tell her that I am sure she understands why this is best for everyone.'

'All right.' He makes it to the door and then stops to look back her, 'Lisa – if you need anything, come and find me, OK? And I'll make sure you're, discretely, kept informed about how she is.'

'Thank you.' He leaves without another word and she drops wearily into her chair. She has the remainder of the day to get through, including the Board meeting – and she has no idea how she is going to make it. As if that is not bad enough she has to silence the irritating voice in her head that tells her that if it had been House, he would have tried harder to find out what the problem was.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Wilson is as good as his word and throughout the remainder of the day she receives regular updates and copies of test results. All delivered by different people, none of whom comment, or ask questions – which is a relief since the news they deliver is uniformly bad. Cuddy spares a brief moment out of her busy schedule to wonder how he is managing to track her movements so easily. As the day progresses with nurses, orderlies and other personnel miraculously appearing at her side she decides she is seriously under-using his organisational skills.

Her luck runs out when she returns to her office after the Board meeting to find House lounging on her couch, waiting for her.

'Wow – this used to be my office and now it's a waiting room, you think someone would have told me.'

'Which one of them did you sleep with?' His question makes up in impact what it so lacks in finesse.

'Chase, Foreman or Cameron?' He smiles, fleetingly at her come back.

'Nice – but actually I meant Professor Dean or her husband. The smart money is on the husband, but I have to confess knowing how… adventurous you are, I'm holding onto a hope that it's the Professor, or maybe both of them – that would be really cool.'

'Is this in any way relevant to your treatment?'

'God no, I'm just curious.'

'And what is it that makes you think I'm going to answer that question?

'Don't you want to unburden yourself, confess your sins?' She doesn't bother to dignify that with an answer – instead she leafs through the messages that have accrued in her absence in an attempt to give him the impression she has more important things to think about than his presence. When that doesn't seem to be working she asks,

'Why are you here?'

'There is a luminary of the world of medicine lying downstairs, she has some really shiny awards and lots of very important friends, but all she seems to want is half an hour of your time. What's really fascinating though, is the lengths you're going to not to see her. Normally I wouldn't be able to keep you away from such a high profile patient, but you've told Cameron 'no' twice, even Wilson couldn't persuade you – though he's gone all clucky and protective – which means he knows something is going on.'

'I am not one of your damn puzzles.' His smile is sardonic enough to make her consider slapping him.

'Right now, you are the only game in town when it comes to puzzles.' She forces herself to return his scrutiny without flinching and holds his gaze with her own until he looks away from her face, his eyes deliberately lingering over her body. 'C'mon Cuddy, she's pretty sick, you think she wants to play the wronged wife one last time?'

'It was a long time ago.'

'He's asking for you as well you know.'

'I don't intend to see either of them.' This is the fall back position she planned and while she hoped not to have to use it, she knows it is a good cover, and as an added bonus she is fairly sure that she will be able to sell it to House.

With this in mind, she dips her gaze away from his, wraps her arm protectively around her stomach and, just for a moment, lets some of the vulnerability she has been working hard to keep at bay show through. She is particularly proud of the way her voice shakes slightly as she says, 'It was just once and it was really stupid thing to do.'

'The husband?' When she nods he says, 'damn – I owe Chase $50. Did she catch you together?' As she expects he is far too enthusiastic about the prospect of getting details.

'It wasn't like that.' His eyes are assessing and far too astute, but she knows that he believes her right now, as much as he believes anyone, and she wonders which one of them that is a reflection on. 'I can't believe I just told you that,' her sudden shift into waspishness is, she hopes, the final clincher, 'go and do some work. You owe me clinic hours from last week.'

He pushes himself up – but doesn't move far, which of course means he isn't finished yet. The days when she manages to get the last word with him are few and far between and this is clearly not to be one of them.

'She's running out of time. Wilson is treating the lymphoma – but we can't nail the underlying condition and I honestly don't know whether she will survive long enough for us to workout what it is and find a treatment. Maybe you should give her the one, final death-bed scene she seems to want. Could be she wants to be magnanimous, have a tearful reconciliation where she finally forgives you. Either way, does it really matter? It was a long time ago,' with his cane he gestures expansively to the room around them, 'I don't think you're her resident anymore.'


	4. Chapter 4

Note from Author: Thanks to those of you who have sent me reviews and feedback. This chapter contains one of those 'moments' I was talking about - its not exactly a lurch into 'ship though.

Bend and Break – Part 4

The floor is buzzing with news of her arrival as soon as she emerges from the elevator. Perhaps they have already heard about her impromptu tour of the hospital and have been waiting to see if she would pay them a visit. Perhaps they have been speculating about her uncharacteristic avoidance of a high profile patient. Either way, heads turn as she passes and eyes follow her to Dr Cameron, with whom she briefly confers.

Her heels tap on the floor as she walks steadily towards the room in question. She exchanged her suit jacket for her lab coat before venturing from her office, but is trying not to think about the ten minutes she spent deciding which garment would provide her with the best armour for this encounter.

She has used her tour of the hospital to prepare herself. Moving from floor to floor, talking to colleagues, giving support and advice has proved a salutary reminder that she is a force to be reckoned with.

The great man is conspicuous by his absence – a fact she is glad of. Just at the moment she is not sure she can deal with House's particular brand of arrogant, self-absorption. He has better reason than most people to be both arrogant and self-absorbed – but that doesn't mean she is keen to be exposed to either facet of his character. She has no doubt that news of her arrival will reach him very soon, and that when he hears of her destination he will conclude that he is the one who forced her hand. That he will be right is something she is already finding irritating. But his parting shot hit home – she isn't a naive resident anymore and she is a long way from the young woman who hero-worshipped Julia Dean, then found out the hard way that she had feet of clay. She hasn't been that person for a long time.

'Lisa,' she is not at all surprised to hear someone speak her name. She takes a breath and then turns to greet him.

'Hello Benjamin.' He is older of course, it's been 15 years, and they are all older. She isn't quite prepared for the kiss he brushes against her cheek, or for the way he grasps her hand.

'I'm so glad you are here – Jules will be happy too, she's missed you.' She digs her nails into her palm to prevent herself from responding - he is such a good man, he's always been a good man – and a good Doctor. As far as she knows he's never been jealous of his wife's celebrity, of her awards and achievements. He's always been quietly supportive, standing in her shadows. Well, perhaps not always.

'I'm not sure this is a good idea,' she says – but nevertheless allows him to lead her into the room.

At her first sight of the patient she has to fight to contain her shock, Julia Dean has shrunk, almost collapsed into herself; Cameron's use of the word 'frail' is, no longer, so surprising. As her eyes open she focuses first on her husband, before she identifies her visitor.

'Dr Cuddy,' the voice and the eyes are familiar, on more occasions than she can remember she waited, hopefully, for a word of praise and a nod of approval from this woman. She can feel the pull even now – the need for her approbation.

'Professor Dean.' She plucks the chart from the end of the bed and looks over it, the readings don't tell her anything she doesn't already know, but it gives her something to do. 'I understand you've been asking to see me – is there a problem?'

'Perhaps I was just curious to see what you've made of yourself. I'm not sure I think much of your hospital – your Head of Diagnostics is rude, he doesn't even wear a lab coat. I've heard of him of course, but he's clearly past his best.The oncologist is on his third marriage, and that's on the rocks. No matter how brilliant he is, you have to wonder about someone with such an unstable personal life.'

'If you're not happy about the treatment you're receiving I'll be happy to arrange a transfer. Of course the truth is, the maverick diagnostician and the oncologist who's not so good at being married are probably the only two people in the State who stand a chance of saving your life – but don't let that stop you.'

'Lisa, I'm sure she didn't mean…' she waves Benjamin off without looking at him.

'I'm sure the Professor meant exactly what she said, as I recall she has always been very precise in what she does, and doesn't say.'

'I see you're still burning with moral indignation – even after all these years – admirable really. It's such a pity you are so limited in your thinking. You could have done great things Lisa.' She almost smiles at the familiar line the conversation is taking – how strange toreturn to the same argument – after all this time.

'If only I'd done as I was told, let you guide me? I don't think so.'

'You don't know what you threw away.'

'You're right – I don't. I only know what I held onto.' She takes a step towards the door; concluding there is nothing new to be gained from this – but Julia's voice, suddenly breathy, calls her back.

'We were as good as your family – doesn't it matter at all that you betrayed us?'

'You weren't my family and I wasn't the one who betrayed something important. I'm not surprised that you can't see that – I'm not surprised about anything you do, I haven't been for a long time. Goodbye Benjamin – it was good to see you again.'

She doesn't look back as she steps out into the corridor, she is far too concerned with maintaining her composure until she is safely away from scrutiny. The hallway is busy with people – obviously news of her visit has spread. She sees House watching her, pausing in his discussion with Cameron as she walks rapidly past – but he does not speak. Her hands are trembling in the aftermath of the confrontation, she shoves them into the pockets of the coat divided between the urge to throw something and to burst into tears.

'Dr Cuddy,' his expression is pensive and his eyes meet hers only for a moment before darting away to read the chart he is holding onto. 'I'm sorry, but I need a moment of your time.'

'Dr Wilson, I really…' her voice wavers and before she knows quite how he has done it he is grasping her elbow and guiding her along the corridor into an unoccupied room. As they move he is talking to her about a patient – describing a complicated situation and she frowns, trying to remember if this is something she should know about. But once the door is closed and he flips the blinds the energy leaves him and he becomes his usual, diffident self.

'Sorry, I just thought I should get you away from there,' she sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose,

'That bad?'

'You looked like you were going to explode.'

'Damn,' she says softly, almost to herself.

'You OK?'

'No – I want to throw her out into the street and tell her to find another hospital. But I won't – and she knows it.'

'I've never seen anyone get under your skin like this - not even House.'

'Well, amazingly some people can push my buttons even more effectively than House,' she smiles slightly, 'but lets just keep that between you and I – I don't want him to feel he has to up his game.' He rubs his neck, a sure sign he is feeling awkward.

'And this is really all about an affair?' There is no judgement in his gaze – which under the circumstances isn't surprising. His own personal life is frequently chaotic and his grasp of the concept of fidelity appears tenuous at best – except to House of course – where she thinks it is probably absolute. But she forgets that in his own, far quieter way, he is just as perceptive as his friend and he must see something in her expression now because he takes a step closer to her, 'it isn't, is it?' An almost smile lurks around his mouth for a moment and he sounds admiring as he says, 'you told House what you know he'd believe?' His amusement fades and he looks at her sombrely, 'he's not exactly keeping the information to himself, what could make you want to damage your reputation like that? What's so terrible you'd chose to use this as a distraction?'

She holds up a hand to ward him off but isn't exactly surprised when he ignores it. She wants to tell him that if he doesn't stop being so nice to her she will be forced to break one of her own cardinal rules – perilously close to tears already she refuses to cry in front of someone she works with. But his hand on her shoulder is incredibly soothing and the temptation to sink into his touch is almost overwhelming. She tries to hold herself away from him but he tugs her gently into a loose embrace and the warmth of his body is a pertinent reminder that it is a long time since someone has really touched her.

Her brain is perfectly clear that this is a very bad idea, but just for the moment her body is over-riding all that instinctive caution. Instead she looks up at him and her breath comes to a shuddering halt at the expression on his face. It would be so easy to turn her head just a fraction more, to brush her lips against his, to give an affirmative answer to the question his eyes are asking. For a second she is frozen, irresolute and just as she decides to take what she needs and damn the consequences the mood is broken by the insistent shrill of a pager. His.

Hurridly she steps away from him, her cheeks burning, her mind a jumble of confusion. What the hell just happened, where had that come from – and what was she supposed to do about it? He is busy not looking at her, talking into the phone in a low murmur as he responds to the page. God, this is a mess.

He can't quite meet her eyes as he tells her that another patient needs his attention and she wonders whether this is a good thing or not? If he'd laughed it off as 'just a crazy moment' she might not have been flattered, but she would certainly have been reassured that it wasn't something she needed to worry about. His determination not to talk about, or even to acknowledge the moment in question makes her think this is something she will have to deal with sooner or later. But right now she needs it to be later. Much later.

As he heads out of the door she sinks into a nearby chair and wonders if there is any point in rifling House's desk for left over Vicodin.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

When you are Dean of Medicine at a major teaching hospital it is relatively easy to 'hide' in your office, to avoid people and situations, without doing anything so obvious as make it look as though that is your intention. This is something Cuddy ruthlessly exploits for the next two days, using budgets, contracts and the sheer volume of her day to day work as an excuse not to face James, or deal with the continued presence of Professor Dean in the hospital.

In the depths of her sleepless nights she is prepared to concede that the 'moment' with Wilson took her by surprise. But she knows she is too old and and far too wary to get caught in the midst of a disintegrating marriage and so, as far as she is concerned emotional vulnerability made her, almost, do something incredibly foolish. It is not a mistake she has any plans to, almost, make again.

The cause of that uncharacteristic vulnerability rankles still – but there is little she can do to change the situation. She would like House to pull off one of his miracles, she would like him to restore Julia to health and send her on her way – but the Doctor in her knows this is an unlikely outcome and that it would be foolhardy of her to expect such a resolution.

She is still receiving regular updates – now from Cameron – who delivers the medical information without anything bordering on conversation. Cameron's reluctance to look her in the eye causes Cuddy to wonder if it is her treatment of Professor Dean, or the rumour of her affair with the patient's husband that the younger doctor is finding so unpalatable. But she isn't going to ask, because that would be undignified and because, as it turns out, she isn't particularly interested in what other people think of her behaviour – or at least in what Dr Cameron thinks of her.

There are some things however, that can't be hidden from. Clinic duty is such a central element of what she imposes on her Doctors that she knows it would be hypocritical of her to skip it herself. She also recognises that the clinic is an unlikely place to find House – which makes it an appealing destination on those occasions when she is trying to stay out of his way.

She is part of the way through an examination when her pager goes off. It is a typical House summons, a dramatic and terse, 'get here now,' and while she might question every other element of his behaviour, experience has taught her to ignore him at moments such as this at her peril.

The last time she'd spoken to Cameron she'd said that they'd found a problem with the liver function which they hoped could be resolved – in order to give Wilson any hope of treating the lymphoma. The urgent request for her presence can only be because some element of that strategy has gone awry.

She refuses to run to the elevator – but her walk is brisk and it is all she can do not to tap her foot in impatience as it sedately rises three floors. It doesn't occur to her until it is far too late that she could just sit in her office and wait for news. And even when it does occur to her she knows it is not really an option, because he wouldn't have paged her if it wasn't an emergency.

She is out of the elevator before the doors are completely open and her progress along the corridor is rapid. When she sees House leaning against the wall outside Julia's room she opens her mouth to ask what the hell is going on. But words suddenly become redundant as Chase, Cameron and Foreman emerge from the room – followed, at last, by Wilson.

She's seen such body language hundreds of times before, lived through this moment herself more times than she can recall, recognises the defeat on their faces, in the way they hold themselves. She doesn't need to watch Wilson angrily pull off his surgical gown to know that the worse has happened. And then they see her.

In some distant part of her brain she acknowledges that they must be struggling with her dual role in this – she is one of their colleagues, but she also knows the patient and her family. She understands the complex calculations that they undertake before they can work out just how to treat her in this moment.

Suddenly none of them are keen to look her in the eye, although House makes a surprisingly decent attempt at it. Beside him Foreman is talking about the heart not being able to stand both sets of treatment, about how weak she was to start with – but she is only peripherally aware of this. Her brain is still processing the incredible fact that Julia Dean is dead, that her heart does not beat, that there is no breath in her body. After so many years spent viewing her only with anger and disappointment she is more than a little unsettled to realise that she has no idea how to feel, what to feel. And House is still looking at her, his gaze far too penetrating, making her feel disturbingly exposed. In the next couple of seconds she realises why, realises what he is waiting for.

'Where is he?'

'Waiting room.' The silence stretches and she knows what he is expecting her to say. When it seems that he has decided that she is not going to volunteer to undertake this final task he says quietly, 'Cameron – go and talk to the husband.' She wants to defend her cowardice, tell them that no one could ask this of her – but of course they have no idea what it is they are asking.

'Dr Cameron,' her voice is steady and her step decisive, 'I'll do it.'

'Lisa…' James' voice is soft, his presence neither a comfort nor a distraction – she knows he is about to give her an out – but she can't allow him to, not when House is still watching her, looking for flaws and evidence of weakness.

'Its all right, I can do this.'

As she reaches the waiting room, Benjamin stands to meet her and the moments that follow will remain with her for a long time. Hope and despair are etched on his face in equal measure and as he meets her eyes it is hope that fades. 'Dr Cuddy?' She is grateful to him for the use of her title – and then thinks how absurd it is to be gratefulto someone who you are just about to give devastating news to.

'I'm very sorry, she was just so weak. I am afraid we lost her.'

'No,' she steps towards him, touching his arm to provide reassurance even though she knows he can't be comforted or reassured. Unbidden an image arises of a much younger version of herself having this conversation with parents of a child they have just lost. In her memory Julia is there as well, is in fact doing most of the talking – but she isn't sure anymore how reliable that version of events is.

'I don't know what I am going to do, I don't know…' Benjamin's voice breaks and he turns to her, leaning into the embrace she is barely conscious of offering. His tears are quiet, almost self-contained, as though he knows she can not share them and does not want to impose upon her.

She pats his shoulder awkwardly and then looks up to find House watching the tableau with an expression she is all to familiar with. As she meets his eyes she recognises the challenge in that ironic gaze – he is intent on finding the solution to the puzzle, he won't stop until he does and anyone who tries to stand in his way had better be prepared for the consequences.


	6. Chapter 6

Authors note: Thank you for the feedbackso far. I am enjoying filling in Cuddy's backstory. I just want to make it clear that I know little about medicine, medical procedures and medical ethics. So - please forgive any heinous errors. Also, this chapter includes a description of someone doing something unpleasant to a patient - if that offends you please don't read the chapter.

Part 6

There is no avoiding the tributes and obituaries that flood the media over the next couple of days; but still she tries. The coverage is varied – much of it glowing, but occasionally a note of criticism creeps in – suggestions that Professor Dean could be difficult to work with, that over the last few years her output was erratic. But there is nothing to dent her pristine reputation, to call into question her contribution to medicine and why would there be?

Cuddy is just starting to think that the worst is over – that she has got through the crisis, that it may soon be business as usual. She is starting to hope that her professional relationship with Dr Wilson will survive unscathed – and that in a matter of days she will be back chasing House for his clinic hours and trying to keep him out of trouble. But she is not to be that fortunate.

When Benjamin Dean leaves her office after a brief visit she is sitting on her couch gazing absently into space, a cup of coffee cooling before her. She is still sitting there when House bangs into the room on a noisy mission to complain about his clinic duty which is, of course, not even remotely connected to his desire to find out what is actually going on.

'Damn it Cuddy, have you no shame? The man's wife is barely cold - or is that the turn on? Doing the nasty before she's even buried?'

'Well, we were screwing each other while she was dying – why stop now,' she snaps back, not caring what he thinks of her. She is unprepared for the long, searching look he gives her or for his response,

'I shouldn't have believed you the first time, but you were so convincing and I have to admit I never thought you'd lie about something like that, I should have known better. We both know you didn't have an affair with Benjamin Dean.' On another day she might be amused at the admission that she'd defeated his 'everyone lies' rhetoric. But today, it doesn't seem like a particularly big deal.

'I really couldn't care less what you think.'

'Great, then this conversation is going to be very short. What did he want?' Too quick, he is much too quick; sometimes it is dizzying just trying to keep up. 'Cuddy – I really don't want to care about this – but it's standing between me and fewer clinic hours, so talk.' She isn't convinced, but there is something disturbingly admirable about the fact that he is prepared to make the attempt.

'He came to tell me that according to the instructions she left for her funeral, Julia would like me to deliever her eulogy.' She laughs and then winces at the bitterness that edges her voice, 'I should have known that she wouldn't let anything as fundamental as being dead stop her.'

'So, you stand up, spout a few meaningless, platitudes and then enjoy the free alcohol – what's the downside to this?' He is seemingly oblivious to the irony of this statement and there is no way she isn't going to point that out to him.

'The way you did when Volger wanted you to promote a product?'

'That was different.' His ego, his conceit is almost unbelieveable. She shakes her head in mock admiration.

'Of course it was, that was about you.' He sighes heavily,

'Then tell me, explain what this is all about; why being asked to give her eulogy is all such a trauma.'

He is hardly a good choice for this confession she thinks as she watches him through narrowed eyes. He drops onto the chair, puts his foot up on the coffee table and leans back, wearing an expression that screams boredom – but she is not convinced. He wants the answers far too badly, he wants all the pieces of the puzzle and they both know only she can give them to him.

She wonders if by finally saying the words outloud she will be free of their burden. Or, if it will only serve to make them solid and immutable.

'It's a challenge – she's daring me to use her eulogy to tell the truth.'

'Tell the truth about what?'

'She killed someone.' She ducks his gaze, but she can feel the weight of it and when she is silent for too long he prompts her.

'What – she hit someone with her car when she was drunk and left them to die?'

'She killed a patient.'

'Cuddy, she wouldn't be the first Doctor to make a mistake.'

'She didn't make a mistake – it was deliberate.' He is silent and she reflects that if this is all it took to shut him up perhaps she should have told him years ago. 'She wanted to test an experimental treatment on a live subject.'

'When someone is dying we take risks – you know that, we've both done it.' She knows he is thinking about two sick babies, two treatments and the call she gave him permission to make – and perhaps he is also talking about the treatment she'd given him.

'The patient was 5 years old, she was very ill – but she wasn't dying – and Julia gave her an early prototype of a treatment we were developing – not because it would help her – but because she fit the genetic profile and she wanted to know if the treatment would still be viable if the immune system was compromised. It wasn't – she died.' Until now she has been delivering her confession to the table-top, now she looks up at him, 'she didn't ask permission, she didn't explain, the parents didn't sign a release – they didn't even know. She just wanted to see what would happen.'

'That's not possible, someone would have said something, someone would have reported her.' When she doesn't answer he looks up and reads her expression without difficulty. 'Oh, I see, someone did.'

'It was my word against hers - no one else supported my version of events, the parents refused our request for an autopsy and the hospital chose not to tell them why it mattered, they were very keen to keep it under wraps.'

'And she just got away with it?'

'So far.'

'What happened to you?'

'Obviously I couldn't continue with the team. We were all so close - I practically lived at her and Benjamin's place – spent more time there than at my apartment, we all did. But, when I reported her the 'family' cut me off, they hinted to the hospital that I was too close to Benjamin – that this was my way of getting rid of Julia. I was transferred to another team, finished my residency and then got the hell out of there. I thought I'd left it all behind – I guess I was wrong.'

'You can't seriously be thinking of standing up at her funeral and accusing her of breeching medical ethics, of being responsible for a child's death?'

'She wanted me to give her eulogy.'

'Say no, you don't have to do what she wants – you never do what I want – why depart from a winning formula?'

'To put the past to rest?' He shakes his head,

'And you do that by destroying yourself? You accuse her and they'll come after you, you were the resident and more importantly, you're still alive. Even if you could prove what she did, even if others corroborate your account– the medical profession protects its own – and they'll cast you out. Let it go.'

'Which is what you'd do?'

'I have tenure and a Dean of Medicine who feels the need to protect me. Did she do it again?' She is wrong-footed by his sudden change of direction, or else by his unexpected acknowledgement that she stood between him and trouble on frequent occasions.

'I'm not sure – probably not.'

'Then congratulations, you passed the test, your conscience should be clear.'

'Its not.'

'Too bad – noble gestures aren't going to change that. She played God, its an occupational hazard, she went mad and wanted to know if there were any limits, you showed her there were. She probably wasn't even angry with you – not once she realised you'd stopped her from becoming a monster. Maybe she wanted to tell you that before she died, maybe not, you'll never know. The point is she's dead, you're not – get over it.'

He struggles to his feet and looms over her to deliver this tirade, she rises as well, unwilling to be placed at such a disadvantage. 'Well, thank you for your input, but its my call so …' She turns away but his hand shoots out to grab her wrist bringing her to a halt.

'Damn it Cuddy, will you listen to me!' She ought to demand that he let her go, she ought to wrench her arm out of his grip – but when she turns back to him, full of outrage, she does neither.

His gaze is fixed on the place where he is holding her wrist, his expression is uncharacteristically naked. As she struggles to find words his thumb moves carefully on the sensitive skin of her wrist. It is almost as though he is conducting an experiment – waiting to see what her response to his touch will be. She shivers at the caress and knows he feels it when his fingers tighten reflexively around her. The fragile, hesitant movement is making it difficult for her to think of anything but his hands on her skin and she is terrified by how easily she gets lost in this.

When she pulls away after endless moments he releases her without remark but he looks – stunned, as though something in his actions or his response has taken him completely by surprise.

After everything he has put her through over the years she ought to be triumphant at the knowledge that she can shake his composure – but all she can think is that her, or their, timing is lousy. She remembers James' face from a few nights earlier and reflects bitterly that only she could suddenly become irresistible to screwed up, unavailable men in the midst of her own crisis.

The sound of her office door closing rouses her and she realises that House has left. It is barely 3 o'clock in the afternoon – she still has a million things to do – but for the first, and hopefully the last, time she follows his example – and goes home to sit on her couch and watch crap TV.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: well, its the final part. I can't tell you how much fun I have messing with the Wilson / House / Cuddy combination. Thanks to all those who have read / sent reviews. Catherine5 - I do hope your head doesn't explode when you get to the end!

Part 7

The hospital does not burn down when she takes a few days off – and the reflection that she is not indispensable to its continued existence would be an uncomfortable one, if she didn't have enough other things to worry about.

It is snowing in Boston as the great and the good gather for Julia Dean's funeral and Cuddy is only marginally surprised to find herself among them. She sits outside in the cold, unwilling to take her place amongst the assembled congregation – unwilling to accept that she is running out of time to make a decision.

She has been agonising over this for four days – and still she can not decide. She knows that House is right, if she stands up and tells the truth it will not just be Julia's reputation that is damaged. Such an action is just as likely to bring the house of cards down on her – but still there is something compelling about the idea of confession.

She has always thought of herself as a practical woman – this tendency to martyrdom is something she is uncomfortable with – and yet, looking back it seems she has been in flight from this for a very long time. Perhaps now is the moment to stop running.

'Cuddy,' she turns at the sound of his voice and then has to blink in disbelief, hoping her vision will clear, hoping he is a figment of her imagination. But he doesn't disappear and there is something very familiar about the way he uses his cane to poke angrily at the snow.

'What are you doing here?'

'The grieving husband asked Wilson and I to attend,' she looks past him and sees James standing just out of earshot. His expression says he wants to talk to her too but she can't handle that, she can barely handle this conversation with one of them.

'That doesn't mean you had to accept. You're supposed to be in the clinic – Wilson has patients.'

'And yet here we both are – what does that tell you?'

'That you've succumbed to morbid curiosity and the lure of free alcohol.'

'Or else that we are both trying to stop you from doing something monumentally stupid.' She shouldn't be surprised that he told James; she hadn't asked him not to and she is sure the temptation is one he didn't even try to resist.

'I'd be touched by your concern if I weren't sure that this is really still all about you. You're just worried that if this ends up costing me my job whoever replaces me might not turn out to be so tolerant of your idiosyncrasies.' He is not stupid enough to try to dispute her analysis.

'I can be both self-absorbed and right. The only person you are going to destroy is yourself – if you're determined to do that I can't stop you, but there are easier ways to go.' It is on the tip of her tongue to say that this is something he'd know all about, but she looks, really looks at his strained posture, the grimace of discomfort on his face and lets the words remain unspoken, certain that they lie between them anyway.

'I know – but can't this be a chance to lay the past to rest?'

'The truth is, things happen and we live with them – for most of us there's no escape, no selective amnesia, just the hope that we won't screw things up even more tomorrow. Professor Dean did something wrong, she put you in an impossible position – and here you are, the person created from that experience.'

'I'm not sure I know who I am any more,' she says quietly.

'Hell of a way to find out.' She feels the tiredness pull at her, feels the weight of his words and knows that James is watching them, waiting to see what she will decide.

'I have two versions of the eulogy – one is the truth, the other is probably closer to what they are expecting to hear.'

'And there's nothing in between?'

'There's you – and Wilson.' For the briefest moment he meets her eyes, the emotion that flickers across his face is one she doesn't want to recognise, but still she feels its pull – like being caught in an undertow.

'Well,' he says quietly, 'we'll just have to hope that's enough. '

Women of science do not have religious funerals – although there is a distinct sense of worship in the attitude of those collected around her. Cuddy sits through the first 20 minutes of the funeral sill in a fog of indecision, still sure that the only way to free herself is by confession. When the low buzz of sound fades she looks up and finds that everyone is looking at her – waiting.

She sees House and Wilson standing at the back of the room, James is trying very hard to be invisible whereas House's body language screams irritation and impatience. She almost smiles at what an incongruous pair of mourners they are, before realising that in the midst of a funeral smiling would probably be an inappropriate response.

She closes her eyes and takes a breath – there is a heartbeat left to make her decision.

'I expect some of you are wondering why I am standing here to talk about Julia Dean; you probably don't know that once upon a time I was one of Julia's residents. We didn't part on the best of terms – so, when I found out she'd asked that I give her eulogy I was surprised. I've been trying to work out why she asked for me, what it was she was hoping I'd say about her. Part of me thinks that she asked me to do this because she hoped our conflict meant I saw her more clearly than other people, meant that I saw beyond her achievements – that I wasn't dazzled by her. She was wrong about that – I was awed by her intellect, by her approach to problem solving. I don't think there is anyone I have been more desperate to impress. But she wasn't perfect – she forgot the human balance sometimes.'

As she pauses Wilson looks up from his perusal of his shoes, House's eyes haven't left her since she started to speak – as though he could will her to say the right thing by some form of mind control. She takes a shaky breath and refuses to be distracted by their gazes, by the expressions on the faces of people who have no idea what she is struggling with.

'I sometimes think the hardest thing about being a Doctor is those days when you have to weigh the balance between one life and the lives of hundreds or thousands. Such days don't come along very often, but the truth is if we forget the value of one life, even for the chance to save hundreds, then we are on a path to forgetting the value of every life – and we are all the poorer when that happens. Julia Dean saved hundreds if not thousands of lives and her contributions to medicine are well documented. But she wasn't perfect, she made mistakes; sometimes she became too intent on the goal. I used to think she was a great Doctor – but I know the difference now and the truth is, she was damn good at some things and less than wonderful in other areas. She wasn't a super-hero – she was a woman of superb intellect, driven to succeed, driven to make a difference – the world of medicine is poorer for her passing.'

Her hands have been shaking for all of the time she has been speaking – but now, as she steps down from centre stage they stop. She walks out of the building; head held high and does not look back.

The cold hits her after just a few steps, the biting wind robbing her of breath and making her eyes sting. When she blinks the tears fall and she rubs them away before she can think that it is ironic not to shed a tear for Julia, but to be forced to cry by the cold, having just walked out of her funeral.

Walked out into the freezing cold without her bag or coat she reminds herself; a gesture that is certain to be undermined when she is driven back inside to retrieve them. She is saved that indignity when someone drapes her coat over her shoulders and pushes her bag into her hands. As she shivers James rubs his hands up and down on her arms, all the time muttering about hypothermia and the lunacy of walking off without anything more than a thin jacket to keep her warm. 'You're a maniac,' he observes as she leans closer to the warmth emanating from his body. He tightens his grip on her, just a little, and when her head feels heavy she lets it fall to his shoulder.

'Well, that was quite an exit.' The ironic tones can only belong to one person. When she looks up House is watching them with a carefully neutral expression. As she steps back from James and pulls her coat on he adds, 'I'm glad you chose to survive.'

'You mean you're glad you won't have to break in a new Chief of Medicine.'

'That too,' he concedes. 'You OK?' It is an interesting question, one she takes time to reflect upon before responding. She meant everything she had just said about Julia. She ought to be relieved that, with a little nudging from House, she had found a way to tell the truth without actually telling the truth; had been able to respond to the challenge without further compromising herself. But Julia's reputation is going to remain untarnished; no one else will ever really know what happened. Can she live with that?

'I'm not sure. I'm glad its over, I don't regret what I said, but I wish I could have told the truth. I should have done more at the time, should have tried harder to make people believe me. Now, I have to live with the fact that I didn't and the fact that I didn't use this opportunity to put my ghosts to rest.' She glances over at House, expecting some sharp come back, but is surprised when he says softly,

'We all live with ghosts.'

'So, what do we do now?' It is Wilson who asks the question, breaking the silence that threatens to engulf them all.

'Well, I'm guessing after Cuddy's little performance we probably aren't going to be welcome at the after funeral drinks. I say we find a bar and get drunk.' She might be cold and emotionally drained but there is no way she is going to allow him to get away with that.

'How about going back to the hospital and actually treating some patients?'

'My idea's more fun – come on Cuddy – don't tell me you couldn't use a drink?' Agreeing with House is one of the things she tries not to do more than once a day and she is well over her quota for the week already. She glances over at James who looks like he thinks a drink isn't such a bad idea. It could be she owes them for whatever whim dragged them here in her wake. It also could be that under the present circumstances combining the three of them with alcohol is what passes for a dangerous prospect. Still, she is freezing and a decent scotch would be very welcome about now.

'All right – lets find a bar.'

'Excellent choice.'

As they start to walk she glances at the two men beside her and wonders what on earth she is going to do about the volatile chemistry between the three of them. Her natural inclination is to do nothing at all, to let things return to normal and not worry about what has passed between them over the last week. That would be the mature, responsible thing to do and Lisa Cuddy, Dean of Medicine, is the epitome of maturity and responsibility.

It is not a simple situation – she is not entirely sure how she found herself here and has no clear idea where 'here' is. As if that wasn't enough, House has a grudge against the world and Wilson is a man who, she suspects, finds it difficult to tell the difference between love and every other emotion. More telling is the fear if she doesn't leave this alone she may damage their friendship with each other. Since both men value this, perhaps above all else, she is fairly sure she will never forgive herself if this happens.

James is married, House is insane. These are factors that, as far as she is concerned, mean the prospect of getting involved with either of them should be marked with a large red cross and labelled 'no entry.' She pushes her hands deeper into her pocketsand glances to her left to find she is being scrutinised. His expression is speculative and as she meets his eyes she realises that what happens next is not entirely up to her. In this case her instinct for self-preservation, no matter how strong, might not be enough.

The End


End file.
